Mirrored
by hikkifan89
Summary: We have read the books, we have seen the movie, but we haven't seen the other sides. What was Raoul thinking when he heard "Come to me: Angel of Music" in Christine's dressing room? Where was Erik before the Masquerade? ALW Poto. Please review.
1. Prolouge

How this came about: I thought of everything and nothing. Father promised me that he would send me the angel of music. Instead, I got a computer with Microsoft Word.

Note: My first ficcy - ahem PHiccy. Sorry if it sucks. Just read, and PLEASE review. That way if I am good, I continue writing chapters and stories, and if I suck…well, you know; )

Prologue

_**Erik**_

You don't know my past. No one does. You cannot fathom the pain I have gone through. The pain was burned into my soul emotionally and left the deepest scars. The emotions were far from joy and happiness. They were much more than expanded agony and grief. It was essential that I were to leave my home. Frankly, I did not feel sorrow that I was leaving, nor did I care. I was to live place to place, feeling no compassion from the citizens passing by, but content with my life. No…I was not content. This face – this _thing_ – got me into this situation in the first place. I was only eight, living on the streets. How could I be content?

After long travels all over the world, I became more mature and wiser. In my travels, I came to find myself in France, my home. Having knowledge of architecture, I became an architect at the Opera Populaire, and with that came to know the opera house very well. I learned of its many doors and secret passages, of the many roads and hallways, but one thing I found in particular was a large lake five compartments under the opera. I grew fond of the lake, and after some years, made an actual home in the labyrinth. It was my sanctuary, my world of the arts, free from any outside contact. This was my home, and the opera was my playground.

_**Christine**_

My father passed only yesterday. He left me. I was left alone in this world. The only companion I had was by the name of Madame Giry, whom I had only met once before. I had met her only days before father died. She had come to take care of me since father was too ill to, and we talked of things that were in each other's lives. I felt close to her, as if she were an old friend. I told her of my secret love, my friend Raoul de Changy. I asked her if she knew of this boy.

"I do not." She replied simply. "I presume he is a handsome fellow."

I nodded my head vigorously. "Quite! Plus, he is a count. He told me when we grow up, he is going to marry me and I am to become his countess. Oh, Madame Giry, I know this might be foolish, but I feel excited about. Think of it: Countess Christine de Changy!"

Madame Giry grinned gently at me and patted my arm. "It is not foolish, _ma chere. _It is a matter that any person would be excited about. I hope that he will make you happy." With that, she rose from where she sat and walked away quietly, leaving me alone in my thoughts of love.

Yesterday was a cold morning with white snow covering the sidewalks. It was as if nature had known I was mourning to make the sky gray and cloudy. I walked hand-in-hand with Madame Giry toward the Opera Populaire. I was silent, as was she, but I was silent for I was thinking of the last words that Father had said to me. While he lie on his bed with dull candle light, he slowly took my hand. "My Little Lotte," he said softly. He took deep breaths as he spoke. "When I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you." He smiled. "I promise you this, Christine." It was the first time in seven years that he had not used the name "Lotte" but "Christine".

Thousands of tears slid down my face. For Father is to never call me "Lottie" again, and I shall never hear his voice again. This evening, as I settled into my new home, I thought of this. How depressed it made me, yet I couldn't let the thoughts leave my mind.

Madame Giry gently knocked and opened the door to my living chambers. I quickly stood, erasing the tears on my cheeks with the tips of my fingers and turned the doorknob.

The woman was not alone, for she had a small child of my age beside her. The girl smiled while Madame Giry spoke simple sentences. "Christine, this is Meg. She is my daughter. She, too, had a father that passed away recently." Meg nodded somberly. "She is in the new opera 'Faust' and she was quite curious if you would like to be part of the ballet."

As I thought of these words, my spirit slightly lifted. My chance to make father happy. I would see the Angel of Music. Father promised. I vowed my life, from this day on, would be dedicated to music to make father and the angel content.

Prologue End


	2. Chapter One: Hannibal

4-something-05

I wrote "Hannibal" aroud the same time I was finishing prolouge, so no major updates. runs to Microsoft Word and starts writing chapter two

Chapter One: Hannibal

_**Erik**_

I walked silently down the dark, complex path to where it connects my living chamber and the stage balcony. I had walked down this path for more than three years, learning of its twists and turns, eventually knowing them by heart. I had come down this orbit, as many times before, to hear the handsome sounds of the opera chorus. My pupil, Christine Daae, is one of these girls. I have been her mentor for only the last three months, and yet the more her voice excels, the more I feel love for her. My head knows that she is only a woman of sixteen years of age, but my heart is telling me to love her with every fiber of my being. I pondered at this for quiet some time.

As the road began to come at an end, my ears adjusted to the coming sounds of Carlotta Giudicelli, the lead actress in far too many roles. This year's opera was "Hannibal". Although she was terribly miss cast for the part, she was the Prima Donna, and which that she was to be the star of each role that came to her. I think that it is proper to give thanks to that fool who runs my theater, Mousier Lefevre, for this. No matter, though, as I have sent him to an early retirement with my gift of playing simple tricks on the mind. I smirked to myself. Such a man who could not deal with me could not deal with a theater.

The path came to an end, as I could see the dull light from the outside flooding in the cracks under the wall. I took the candle in which was placed in my hand and shown it onto the lever which open the wall door. My hand settled onto the switch and pulled. The walls made a quiet crinkling sound as it struggled to open, stopped abruptly, and slid to the left of the path revealing a great splash of wind onto my face. As the wind calmed, I had placed my candle down silently onto the floor, for it was now extinguished.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the dull light and I found myself, as I had expected, on the second balcony closest to the roof. The height of the balcony was of at least fifty feet high with a great deal of ladders leading up to it. The floorboards were in a rectangular order in which one could easily access from the upper stage to the lower stage in a few seconds time. If you were to look around you, one would see the endless ropes and pulleys connecting the scenery, curtain, and stage. Here, you wouldn't find it hard to get utterly confused to which rope connects to what pulley, and leave the place immediately out of udder frustration. Of course, knowing the Opera like the back of my palm, I knew which rope led to which pulley. Right now, my eyes were fixed on the main pulley of the backdrop. With that, my mind began to work franticly.

My mind was interrupted when I heard the shrill sounds of Carlotta's voice in my ears. I looked down at the stage to find that she was directly below me. She began to sing the song of the finale. Until now, it was one of my favorites of the opera.

She began. "Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye." She held out the last two notes far longer than they were suppose to go, but no one noticed, or if they did, they did not have the courage to tell the mademoiselle.

No, this has gone far enough. For the sake of this opera, she must be gotten rid of. My eyes glanced at the backdrop rope. I smirked.

"Remember me once in a while. Please promise me you'll try." She continued. I needn't notice that she had once again carried out the notes, for I swiftly made my way toward my destination.

"When you find that once again you long-" At this, I quickly untangled the rope resting on it's post and let it slip freely out of my gloved hands.

The backdrop fell at an exhilarating rate in which the prima donna did not notice until the last moment. It plummeted down quickly merely missing her by feet, yet the force pushed her to the ground.

Many people gasped and screamed at the sight of this, but Christine and her friend, Meg, there heads shot straight up into the air. Fear was on their faces, not for Carlotta, but for what might have caused the backdrop to fall. I knew that they could not see me, for the darkness was to great, and so I simply stared back at them.

"Signora!" the music conductor yelled, while many of the stage crew tried to peel the fallen scenery off of the crying diva.

I smirked once again as to have pleasure in the pain Carlotta was given. At this, I reached inside of my coat pocket and drew out a letter. I had written the letter addressed to the new managers of the theatre far before the day was anew. I knew that my faithful friend, Antoinette Giry, would pick it up for me. I dropped it into the backstage, and as expected, Antoinette quickly picked it up and placed it into her hands. She needn't look up at me, for she new I was there. How many times I had to thank her for the tasks I had for her? She was my friend and faithful servant in this labyrinth of an opera.

Chapter One End


	3. Chapter Two: Think of Him Fondly

4-20-05

An update? GASP! Yeah, I haven't been able to write for a while since I got my wisdom teeth out. When you get your wisdom teeth out, you _really _don't feel like writing. Sad, but true. So, now that I am better, I can FINALLY get chapter two up. Yay .

Chapter Two: Think of Him Fondly

**_Christine_**

Although that should have been a joyous day for me as I was to become a new star at the Opera Populaire, my mind was on the well being of Carlotta and the mysterious person. Did Carlotta know this person? Who was it that who hated Carlotta so? Have I met them before?

Questions hastily flooded my mind with no answer. The more I thought and the more I tried to answer, the more frustrated I became.

_You mustn't think of such things now_, a voice in my head echoed to me. _This is your one big night. Concentrate…_

I slumped in my chair in the dark dressing room. I sighed and starred at the floor, lost in thought. _I know, _another voice said in my mind. _But it is such a serious situation. What could have possibly-?_

I shook my head vigorously. No, I couldn't let my mind slip away into daydreaming. Not now. Not before the most important night of my life.

Abruptly, my stream of thoughts was broken when a voice whispered in my ear.

"Christine…" It called softly.

Frightened, I quickly stood and turned around. My eyes darted around the room; my head turned in every way, yet there was not a soul in sight. Fear quickly took hold of my body. Who was this voice?

"Christine…" It whispered again.

My throat was tight, but I spoke. "M-Master? Is…that you?" When I asked the simplex question, I glanced at my hand to notice it was shaking. Why was this? He must have noticed it, too, for he questioned me.

"Child, why do you shake in the presence of me? Do you fear me?" I was afraid he would take this affront, so I replied as quickly as I could, although more to myself than a professor.

"No, of course not…. Well, you just startled me." At these simple words, my fear slightly left me. It was almost as if when I said these words, they would become true. I swallowed once again and smiled as I starred at the floor.

The voice was hushed. I had feared my tutor had left in ire, for he did not speak again. I breathed in deeply. The thoughts were flooding back into my mind. What is he doing here? Did I anger him? Why do I fear him?

After a moment of thoughts, he spoke. "Good luck tonight." At that, I heard no more.

For a few moments, I stood in my solitude. The silence of my mind was dire, yet extravagant. The feelings I felt now were confusing and new. What was wrong with me?

X

My final note was strong and pure as I stood on that vast stage. I did not want the singing to end, yet the orchestra had come to a stop, as did I. At that very moment, the dark congregation burst into applaud, and I could not help but to find myself beaming toward them. The introspection filled my mind with positive feeling. This crowd was applauding, not for the chorus girl I once was, but for the fresh star of the opera house. The feeling of their clapping gave me great respect for myself.

My grin grew bigger as I had seen the many roses falling to my feet in excellence. _Was this all for me?_ I questioned in my head. _This feeling is so surreal. I am not the girl I once knew._

The dimming lights brought my mind back to reality. I gently curtsied at the cheers at last, for the curtain began to close. I glanced around at the audience mindlessly, and that is when an awkward feeling stuck me at that moment. The feeling someone had heard my tune. They had heard me sing all evening. It felt different from the audience, as if someone dear to me had heard.

I felt drawn to them. Warmth filled my body. With that, one thought filled my head: I must go to them quickly.


	4. Chapter Three: Mirrored Angel

6-25-05

Just kind of fixed some things that needed fixing. Now, I must finish playing Final Fantasy X. Braska's Final Aeon is a tough one, but I MUST finish!

Chapter Three: Mirrored Angel 

_**Erik **_

What wonderful music she had made! That voice of an angel. I watched her secretly from below listening to her miraculous performance only moments before.

I crept down the dark passages of the opera, as I did only too many days, toward Christine's sanctuary. To my prior knowledge, I knew that she sought guidance after the show, as she did every night. She sought guidance from a friend and father, although passed away, and still confronted him every night. I, too, would be there for her every sunset.

As I had concluded my journey by stopping in front on the two-way mirror, I had noticed that Miss Daae had not returned yet from the show. Of course, this was all to be practical, for she was in the middle of an act. Unlike her typical one scene, she was now to be absent from the sanctuary quite more time, for she had a greater part in the opera. This did mean, though, that I would not see her as commonly as I have been for the past three months. This made me not angry, but to the contrary, quite pleased, for she had finally advanced, not only from a chorus girl to a lead, but as a woman at the age the young of sixteen.

A curious notion had interrupted my stream of thoughts. Tonight, why had I hesitated in Christine's dressing room? Why had I abruptly stopped myself from bringing her with me into my dark labyrinth? Was I afraid? Was I fool for doing this?

I sighed deeply. For the past few days, I was not the person I once knew. My actions were peculiar. The love I felt for Christine – am I actually deeply in love with her? Not just as a father and friend, but as a lover?

My thoughts broke as I heard soft, yet rapid, footsteps coming from the hallway. At the next moment, as I expected, Christine came swiftly into the room. The look on her face was of curiosity, but concern. Her eyes darted around the room quickly, almost searching for something. Something, or someone for that matter, of comfort.

As she eyed the dark room, she situated herself on her knees in front of the mirror in which I was standing in front of. Her eyes had stopped searching around the room, and were now settled on a candelabrum in which her father's photo hung above it. The candelabra already had two candles lit from the previous night in which she had lit them herself. To her, each candle lit was a prayer to her dear father up in heaven. Tonight, yet again, she took the wick from aside, lit it from the previous candle, and let the flame from the third candle on the right grow. As simple as that, she bowed her head in silence.

Chapter Three End


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